Who Killed Jennifer Wren?
by ShoePigeon
Summary: Set mainly in 1950, pre-Cutler. Bit of a murder mystery. Feel free to try and guess "Who done it?" Reviews very welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**I know, I know, I should be writing "I do" but this story has been knocking round in my head for a while now and I really wanted to write it. I promise, I have not forgotten Lady Jane and I will get back to her eventually.**

**Special thanks to TangentiallyTJ for proofreading.**

**Enjoy! **

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**Chapter 1: The Morning After. **

Hal stirred. A narrow strip of sunlight was penetrating the otherwise dark room through the gap in the curtains. It landed on his closed eyelids, filling his world with the hazy red glow it created and slowly dragging him from his slumber back to consciousness. Eyes still closed, he tried to roll over and turn away from the light, but there was a weight across his chest and stomach preventing him from doing so. Something cold and stiff appeared to be stuck to his skin. He opened one eye and glanced down to see what it was.

His gaze fell upon a mess of dark blonde curls spilling over his chest and neck. The curls were attached to a head, which was attached to a body, which was attached to a woman. A naked woman. A naked dead woman. And Hal couldn't for the life of him remember how she had got there. He knew what must have happened, obviously, but the previous evening was all a bit of a drunken blur.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her off him, his skin stinging as the blood that had glued him to her all night became unstuck. Sitting up, and wincing when his head throbbed a little, he glanced back down at her. He could see her face now.

"Huh," he muttered with surprise. It was Cat, one of the girls from the show and Fergus' current tumble of choice. She's the one who could kick her legs above her head when she danced, he mused, right up into the air... pity she was dead really. He certainly hadn't set out intending to kill her last night. He certainly hadn't set out intending to _screw_ her last night. He couldn't remember _what_ he'd intended to do last night and thinking about it was making his head hurt even more.

Only one thing could rid him of this hangover and that was another drink. He touched his hand to the gaping wound on Cat's throat and withdrew it, examining his fingers. Not a drop. She was completely dry. He had to admire his handiwork. But it did mean he would have to go downstairs for something to drink. He groaned and finally rolled out of bed, picking up his silk dressing gown on the way to the door.

When he got downstairs to his club it was completely deserted bar one person. She was sitting on one of the barstools, hunched over the counter top; her arms were folded in front of her and her head was resting on them, using them as a pillow. She appeared to be sound asleep. She was still wearing her evening dress, the gold one with the beading, the one that brought out the amber in her eyes.

Jennifer Wren.

Jenny.

Birdie, only to him.

His songbird.

"Good morning," he said, padding towards the bar on bare feet. She lifted her head but didn't turn around to face him.

"Afternoon."

"Is it?" He asked, walking round to the other side of the bar. "Oh."

"You must have had quite a night then," she sighed, leaning on the bar with one elbow and resting her chin on her hand. She didn't look at him; instead she seemed very interested in fiddling with a discarded tea towel.

"Just wish I could remember it," he replied, turning his attention to looking for something to drink that wasn't alcohol.

"I know that feeling." She smiled, still looking at the towel.

Hal gave up on finding a decanter on one shelf and made his way to the other end of the bar to see if he would have more luck there. He slipped in a puddle of something on the floor, let out an involuntary yelp and had to grab hold of the counter to regain his balance.

"Sorry," Birdie said, looking up, "that's my fault. I went to have a drink earlier and… spilt it, forgot to mop it up."

Hal regained his composure quickly. "Not to worry, I'm sure we can find someone else to do that," he said with a smirk, then frowned and glanced around the deserted club. "Where is everyone?"

"It's Monday Hal," she said, returning her attention to the tea towel, "Believe it or not, some people actually have lives and jobs outside of this place."

"Really?" he said with mock surprise, then smiled and returned to his search but to no avail. "Birdie, is there a decanter anywhere?"

"I think Dennis had the last of it this morning."

"Bugger," he muttered under his breath, cursing Dennis and casting his eye around for some good brandy instead. Birdie took a deep breath and looked up at him for the first time. Her eyes were red, sleepy-looking.

"Haven't you had enough to drink?"

"What makes you say that?" he asked, reaching to the back of a shelf to find the best vintage. He collected two glasses but when he went to pour Birdie a drink, she shook her head.

"Hal, your face is covered with blood," she said, replying to his question. Hal took a first sip from his glass and closed his eyes, sighing with satisfaction as he felt the burn of the liquid slide down his throat to his stomach, dimming his desire for blood and igniting a different one.

"Is it?" he said, leaning against the bar so that his eyes were level with hers. "Perhaps you should do something about that," he almost whispered. She smiled, giggling a little, like she did every time he looked at her as he was looking at her now. It was an elegant giggle, musical and almost childlike, but not in an annoying way. He liked it, it reminded him of years ago, when he first met her.

She picked up the towel she'd been fiddling with earlier and leaned further forward across the bar so that their faces were inches apart. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, Birdie raised the cloth and began to dab the blood off his chin, but it wasn't long before he pushed the towel out of the way and surged forward to close the gap between their lips.

The kiss was deep and, once she had got over the surprise of his attack, Birdie returned it, bringing her right hand up to rest round the back of his neck, like she always did. But this kiss didn't feel the same as it normally did, something wasn't right.

Hal drew away from her, frowning. She felt... different, he couldn't put his finger on it. He kissed her again, slowly, and again, more forcefully. No, something was definitely wrong. She wasn't looking at him anymore; instead she seemed to be focused on a small stain on the varnished wood of the bar. Her eyes were becoming more bloodshot and her chin was trembling slightly.

Hal cupped her face with one hand: she felt cold. He squeezed her cheek, her shoulder, her arm: she seemed squishy, like snow. He stroked her neck softly, listening closely: she had no pulse.

"Birdie?" he whispered, not wanting to believe what he knew must be true. It wasn't just her chin trembling now but her whole body, her eyes were closed in an effort to try and hold back tears. "Birdie, what has happened?"

She didn't reply. "Birdie!" He grabbed her chin and forced it up so she had to look at him. She sobbed for the first time. "Tell me what happened to you."

He fixed her with the gaze that made men, centuries older than her, tremble with fear and spill out their deepest, darkest secrets. She opened her mouth but shut it again when no sound came out. She tried again but to the same effect. Her eyes flickered to something over his shoulder.

He followed her eyes to the door behind him which led to the wine cellar. He glanced back at Birdie but she was staring at the stain on the bar again, sobbing every few seconds. He turned his attention back to the door to the cellar, pushing it open slowly and making his way down the steps.

He was hit by the smell first, that beautiful scent, so when he got to the bottom of the stairs he knew exactly what he would be faced with. But he still wasn't prepared to see Jennifer Wren, Birdie, his songbird, stretched out on the floor, cold and unmoving, with her throat torn out.

Hal climbed the stairs slowly. Birdie was still sitting where he had left her, at the bar, but her head was now in her hands and her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably with unrestrained sobs. She appeared to force herself to look up when he reached the top of the stairs. She bit her lip in an effort to stop the sobs.

"Who did it?" he asked, his voice quiet and controlled.

"I d-don't remem-ember," she managed, still sobbing.

"Nothing at all?" She shook her head and dissolved into more tears.

Hal sighed. He walked out from behind the bar, stepping over the puddle of alcohol, and made his way out of the club and upstairs to his room, leaving Birdie sobbing at the bar. She couldn't be helped. Not now.

He was going to find out who killed her, and he was going to make them pay.

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**Reviews ****_very_**** welcome :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello peoples :) Sorry this has taken so long to upload, lots has happened since I posted the first chapter... had job interview, got job, started job, done some drama school audition prep, mourned the loss of my favourite TV show, watched the press-ups from episode 5 more times than I can remember (in HD), started collaborating with the wonderful KatyNewt and the marvelous Mr Spondoolix, got drunk in London and sang ****_Reach For The Stars_**** on the underground. Oh and I do believe I met Damien Molony at some point too. **

**So yes, busy, busy times. **

**There probably wont be another chapter for at least two weeks, got my auditions and some more writing to do for Mr Spon and the DVD with that all important extra scene comes out on Monday but after that this fic will have my full, undivided attention.**

**Massive thank yous, hugs, kisses and bunches of flowers to the fabulous TangentiallyTJ for proofing for me.**

**And cheers to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed this story so far.**

**Wow, that A.N probably turned out longer than the chapter... oops. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2.**

**Nine Years Ago.**

… 61… 62… 63… thud thud.

It was the early hours of the morning but Jenny wasn't asleep. She was in bed, not her bed, Hal's bed. With Hal. She liked the sound of that. Hal's bed. Their bed sounded better but she wasn't going to think that far ahead yet, one step at a time.

Hal was fast asleep and Jenny was just laying there, her eyes on his wristwatch resting on his bedside table, her ear pressed to his chest. She was counting his heartbeats. There was one every sixty-four seconds. Just one. One moment every sixty-four seconds in which he seemed alive. All the rest of the time, while he was asleep, his body remained perfectly still, like a corpse.

It had frightened her, the first time she slept with him, waking up and finding he wasn't breathing. She had known what he was, she'd known practically from the very beginning, but it didn't really hit her until that moment. She had shaken him awake, something which he hadn't been best pleased about, but once she'd explained her actions he'd laughed, smiled that lopsided smile of his and told her that he wasn't going anywhere. She still listened to his heart though, just to make sure.

… 62… 63… thud thud.

He truly was a miracle. Not just because he only needed one heartbeat a minute to survive or that not even three decades of all the centuries he had lived showed on his perfect features. He was her miracle because he had saved her. He had whisked her away from the slum in which she had been living, away from a bleak future where she would have married someone mediocre, had more children than she could afford to feed and eventually blinked out of existence without anyone even raising a glass. Hal had given her a proper life, a future, a love, he'd made her a star. Anything that she could ever have dreamed of, she had now, because of him.

One day, when Hal decided that she was old enough and ready for it, he was going to recruit her, she was sure of it. It would be so romantic, the ultimate way for him to demonstrate how much he loved her. He hadn't told her, not yet, but he was going to. One day. Soon. She knew it. And then, once she was a vampire, she would never leave his side. They would be immortal. Her fingers stroked the soft skin just above his hip, tracing tiny little figures of eight. Together: ad infinitum.

But, until that one day came, Jenny was happy to stay exactly where she was. Happy to dress up and look pretty every night, happy to sing and dance in the club and to just be near him. Happy to wait. And count heartbeats.

… 60… 61… 62… 63… thud thud.

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**Present Day. Afternoon.**

When Hal entered his office he found Fergus sitting with his back to the door and his feet up on the desk. He was picking at his fingernails with Hal's letter-opener and seemed completely oblivious to his arrival.

Hal cleared his throat loudly, causing Fergus to look up. He was immediately on his feet.

"You wanted to see me My Lord?"

Hal regarded him for a moment. Out of all of them at the club, he had known Fergus the longest. Over the years Hal had noticed that Fergus had a particular outlook on life: he didn't fear anyone. Sometimes Hal thought it was an admirable quality, other times it was just foolish. Hal wondered if this was one of those times. Everyone in the club was fully aware that Birdie was off limits, that she belonged to Hal. He would never have thought anyone, not even Fergus would be stupid enough to overstep that particular line. Hal wondered if he even knew who he surrounded himself with anymore.

"I need a list of everyone who was in the club last night," said Hal, sitting himself down at his desk. "Human, vampire, patrons, staff, guests, everyone."

"Why?" Fergus asked. Hal raised his eyebrows. "I mean, yes My Lord. But-"

"Have you seen Miss Wren today Fergus?" interrupted Hal. He wanted to see what Fergus' reaction would be to Birdie's name.

"Er… yeah, she was in the bar this morning, acting really weird." Fergus replied.

"That would be because she's dead," Hal pressed further.

"What?"

"She was murdered. Last night, or in the early hours of this morning. I'm yet to ascertain an exact time of death. I found her body in the wine cellar and her ghost at the bar little just over an hour ago."

"Shit. Who did it?"

"She doesn't remember. But I have every intention of finding out nonetheless," Hal said calmly, still examining Fergus for signs of deception although he hadn't noticed any yet.

"Well, I can't wait to find out what you do to the bastard when you catch him. Should be fun."

"Should be."

"Hang on a minute," Fergus paused. He appeared to be thinking and it looked like hard work. "You don't think that whoever got Jenny did something to Cat too? 'Cause I ain't seen her since yesterday afternoon."

"Oh no, there's no mystery there," replied Hal with a chuckle. "Cat's demise was my doing."

"You killed Cat?!"

"Is there a problem, Fergus?"

"No, My Lord, of course not. I'll go and find you that list then."

Hal smirked at the reply. Perhaps Fergus wasn't unafraid of _everyone_, but he really should just make sure.

"One moment Fergus, there is another matter I wish to discuss. Would you mind telling me where you were last night and in the early hours of this morning?"

"I'm a suspect? Come on Hal, I'm not that thick!"_ Debatable_, Hal added in his head. He was enjoying this now, making Fergus squirm. He found himself looking forward to the interviews he would be conducting as soon as Fergus brought him that list. "I was playing poker with the boys."

"And Dennis and Louis will confirm this?"

"I can show you my winnings if you'd like," he smirked.

"No need," said Hal, sighing. Fergus wasn't this good a liar, "Ensure that list is on my desk by morning."

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**Meanwhile.**

Jenny hurried down the street as silently as she could, looking around nervously every few seconds to see if she was being followed. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her as a defence against the cold that she wasn't going to admit to herself she couldn't really feel. In her fist, two pennies were tightly clenched.

She couldn't use the telephone in the club to call him, it wouldn't be safe, not with all those people around who could be listening in, not with Hal there. So she was heading to the public call box, much safer.

She knew she shouldn't be calling him anyway, they had both agreed that it would be too dangerous for them to telephone each other, but this was important, she needed to do this.

The phone box stood on the corner of the street like a great glowing red beacon in the chilly mist of twilight., Jenny reached it as quickly as she could in her heels, pulled the door closed behind her, and fed two pence into the machine. With a shaking hand, she picked up the receiver.

"Hello, operator, how can I connect your call?"

"I need you to connect me to-" but the voice on the end of the phone interrupted her.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Jenny frowned, cleared her throat and spoke a little louder.

"Yes, I'm here, I need-"

"Hello? Hello?" And realisation struck. But Jenny wasn't going to believe it, she couldn't.

"Can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me," she begged into the telephone. "Please!" but her two pence clattered noisily out of the refunded change chute. The operator had disconnected. "No no n-no, please no. Please don't go." Her knees felt weak; she fell against the wall of the phone box, the sequins on her gown scraping against the glass panels as she slid to the floor, clutching the receiver to her ear as if her life depended on it. Great gasping sobs began to rack her. "P-please please come back, I ne… I need…"

Jenny felt like she was slowly being eaten away inside, being forced to see the inevitable truth that she still didn't want to accept. She couldn't _do anything_ anymore. She couldn't have a drink without it going straight through her, she couldn't kiss Hal, not like she used to, and now she couldn't even talk on the fucking telephone to the one person who could make this all okay.

"Please," She whispered pointlessly into the handset. "Please, I need to speak to him."

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**Hope you enjoyed, reviews ****_very_**** welcome :)**

**There is a possibility that the rest of the story may get a tiny bit more filthy than I originally intended, not so much that I'll have to change my rating to M but still, a bit more explicit than I usually do. What can I say? I've been corrupted. I think I've been writing with KatyNewt too long...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Only took me 6 months but finally it's here. **

**Special thanks to TJ4ev for proofing for me.**

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**Chapter 3**

**Six Years Ago**

_"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you._

_Heart and soul, just like a fool would do gladly,_

_Because you held me tight,_

_And stole a kiss in the night…"_

The club wasn't silent but, as always when Birdie was on stage, it seemed to be, because her voice was the only thing that Hal was paying any attention to. That, and her.

_"...Heart and soul, I begged to be adored..."_

He was finding himself almost transfixed by the rhythmic swaying of her hips in time to the music, sparkles dancing across the room as the beads on her dress reflected the spotlights, the way her delicate yet nimble hands rested lightly on the microphone stand.

_"...Lost control, and tumbled overboard gladly..."_

She had chosen a low-cut gown this evening. It hid nothing. He could see every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin around her throat, slightly flushed from the heat of the limelight and her pulse slightly fast due to the stage fright she always got, no matter how many times she performed.

_"...That magic night we kissed,_

_There in the moon mist..."_

Watching her sing was really quite exquisite; she made it look effortless but at the same time he could see the focus she put into it. The inner smile that somehow filtered through into every syllable; the way she dropped her larynx whenever she hit a low note, making it sound rich and seductive; her pink lips that stroked their way around the words like she was kissing each and every one of them goodbye as they left her mouth to fill the room.

_"...Oh, but your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling…"_

_And her eyes, they flickered over every face in the room but always returned to him._

_"...Never before were mine so strangely willing..."_

There was promise in those eyes.

"Please Pooh Bear."

Hal blinked. He dragged his attentions away from the stage to look at the couple with whom he was sharing his table. He caught Ivan's eye and mouthed the words _"Pooh Bear"_? with a mixture of extreme amusement and disgust on his face. Ivan ignored him.

"You go enjoy yourself Piglet," he muttered to his companion, slapping her backside as she got up and practically skipped away with a shriek and a giggle, leaving the two men alone.

Ivan had returned from Eastern Europe less than a week ago and naturally one of his first ports of call had been to visit an old friend, and introduce his new plaything, Daisy.

Daisy, Daisy, Daisy... she was wild. Hal had had the pleasure of discovering exactly how wild just a few nights previously. He had to say, he certainly understood why Ivan kept her around. He looked over at her, now flirting openly with practically anyone who looked at her for more than two seconds.

"Does that not bother you?" Hal asked, accepting the refilled cut crystal glass of blood that he had just been offered by his fellow Old One. Ivan shook his head and glanced at his wife.

"Daisy does what she likes. I didn't liberate her from the chains of society merely to place her in shackles of a different sort. She's free."

"That's certainly one way of putting it." Daisy had tempted someone onto the dance floor and was now twirling around him in such a way that she put the club's show girls to shame.

_"...Now I see what one embrace can do,_

_Look at me…"_

Hal's attention returned to the stage.

"So what's the story with her then?" Ivan asked, picking up his own glass and settling back in his chair.

"Birdie?" Hal was caught off guard by the change of subject, "Not much of a story, I found her three or four years ago, she's been here ever since."

"Are you planning to recruit her?"

Hal barked out a laugh then realised Ivan was serious. "Why would I do that?"

"You're not listening to what she's singing?"

"Something about willing lips? Sounds like I'm in for an enjoyable evening," he smirked.

"She's singing to you, only to you."

"And?"

"Well, the way you were looking at her just now I thought perhaps you were considering-"

"What?" Hal smirked, "Making myself a Daisy? Ivan, you've known me how long? Can you really imagine me doing that?"

"There are many things I can't imagine you doing, Hal, and you've done almost all of them." Ivan chuckled, draining his drink and refilling it. Hal's knuckles whitened on the stem of his own glass at the mention of his dry phases.

"I have no intention of recruiting her," he stated.

"Why not?"

"Look around you Ivan. Look at the clientele. Disregarding those who are clearly distracted by your errant mistress, what is it they are they looking at?"

"The stage."

"Exactly. Look at them all, each with their eyeballs hanging out of their skulls and their hands down their trousers. They know. When they walk through that door every evening they know, this is not a brothel, nor is it a feast. We are not parading those girls up there like lots at a cattle market, they can look but they cannot touch. Particularly, when it comes to Birdie."

Hal continued, "So they look and they listen and they buy a drink. And another and another and another. Do you think they'd get quite so worked up if she didn't have a pulse? That little songbird and her beating heart has made me many a pretty penny in the last few years."

"And on top of that you get to fuck her."

"Oh yes, there is that also."

"It's a good plan. I can't help but wonder though, how long can it last?" Hal raised an eyebrow. "Eventually you'll kill her, you won't be able to stop yourself."

"I think you're underestimating my level of self-control old friend, and besides, it's hardly as if I'm not getting it anywhere else." He smirked.

"Does she know that?"

"Does it matter?"

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**Present Day**

Jenny scanned the crowded club with narrowed eyes. They were in here somewhere, the person who did it. Sitting here, bold as brass, just carrying on like normal, like they didn't have blood on their hands. It created an overwhelming sense of paranoia, knowing that someone in the room hated her so much; it made Jenny feel nervous.

Hal would find out who it was. He was Hal and when he put his mind to something he would always succeed. He would find them and make sure they were punished. That's what he was doing now, interviewing everyone who was there that night, trying to piece together what happened.

The atmosphere in the club was nowhere near as jovial as usual. It was hushed, there was no music, just the sound of whispers.

With a sigh Jenny made her way over to the bar where she had spotted Bobby. He was hunched over the counter nursing a scotch that had hardly been touched. He was still wearing his work suit, It looked crumpled, as if he had been wearing it for a while, perhaps slept in it, or not slept at all. She slid elegantly onto the stool beside him.

"Hey."

He looked up. "Jenny." He stared at her for a moment. It was the same look that everyone had been giving her all day, ever since Fergus had opened his big mouth and blabbed the news. They all looked like they had seen a ghost.

"Oh God Jenny, I'm so s-"

"Don't." She cut him off. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you're sorry. It's all anyone has said to me all day, it's driving me insane! Iris actually came up to me and offered her 'sincerest condolences'. Bitch."

"Sorry."

She glared at him, he smiled.

"I suppose no one really knows what else to say, don't know how to treat you."

"I wish they'd just treat me like normal, it's not like anything has changed. I'm still here!"

"It's awkward"

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"I heard you don't remember anything from that night."

Jenny shook her head, "Nope." Bobby nodded and turned back to his scotch.

"I tried calling you," she said.

"You did what?" He looked up at her, confusion and a dash of panic written on his face. "But I thought you said-"

"Don't worry, I used a phone box. It didn't work anyway," she sighed, "the operator couldn't hear me."

"Oh… sorry." Jenny rolled her eyes.

"What did I tell you about that word?"

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked. Jenny shrugged.

"I just wanted to talk I guess, I wanted you to make me feel better."

"We're talking now," he said and Jenny smiled.

"We are."

"And is it working?"

"It's getting there."

A brief babble of activity at the other end of the room caused them both to look up. Iris had just emerged from the stairs up to Hal's office with her usual superior smirk plastered on her face and rushed over to her little entourage of fellow backing singers and dancers, probably to tell more of her pathetic little lies.

"Have _you_ been in yet?" Jenny asked, turning back to Bobby.

"To see Hal? No, not yet."

"He's being very thorough, seems determined to find out the truth."

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know, probably, I mean, he's Hal."

"I meant about us," Bobby said quietly. Jenny froze.

"You're not going to tell him are you?"

"No of course not."

"Then what are you worrying about? It's fine, we were careful. And even if he does hear something, we have nothing to hide, it's not as if we actually, really _did_ anything."

"We wanted to."

"But we didn't. So we're fine." She said with a nod, "We're safe."

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**The song Jenny was singing was "Heart and Soul" by Ella Fitzgerald.**

**Thanks for reading :) x**


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